


Watching in Slow Motion

by ceealaina



Series: WinterIron Bingo 2019 [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 08:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20597879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceealaina/pseuds/ceealaina
Summary: It came on suddenly, out of nowhere and with no warning at all. Bucky had been “better” (better being a very relative term) for awhile now. He’d been cleared to work with the Avengers for months, had gone on multiple missions with them, with no sign of any problem. But they’d all been more hand-to-hand combat, and while that was all well and good, Bucky was a sniper at heart. He had missed it, missed finding his vantage point, waiting for a target and making the calculations. Missed the stillness that came over him, the way his mind quieted and his thoughts calmed as he waited for just the right moment. So when they’d been called out again, and Steve had placed him back on sniper duty, he’d been relieved.Right up until he moved the edge of the rooftop he was on.***His time with Hydra ruined even the parts of Bucky that he thought he knew. Terrified of losing his shiny new place on the team, he doesn't realize he's not the first person to deal with this. And if there's one thing Tony knows, it's an anxiety attack. Deals with PTSD-related panic attacks.





	Watching in Slow Motion

**Author's Note:**

> This fulfills square N4 - Fear of Heights of the WinterIron bingo, and square I1 - PTSD of the Bucky Barnes bingo.
> 
> Please note - this deals with PTSD-related panic attacks, if those are a trigger for you at all. Feel free to contact me if you need more info before proceeding!

It came on suddenly, out of nowhere and with no warning at all. Bucky had been “better” (better being a very relative term) for awhile now. He’d been cleared to work with the Avengers for months, had gone on multiple missions with them, with no sign of any problem. But they’d all been more hand-to-hand combat, and while that was all well and good, Bucky was a sniper at heart. He had missed it, missed finding his vantage point, waiting for a target and making the calculations. Missed the stillness that came over him, the way his mind quieted and his thoughts calmed as he waited for just the right moment. So when they’d been called out again, and Steve had placed him back on sniper duty, he’d been relieved. 

Right up until he moved the edge of the rooftop he was on. 

The building wasn’t even that high, relatively speaking. He’d certainly had higher vantage points before. So there was no reason for the way his breath quickened as he looked down at the street, the way his vision hyper focused on the small forms of the Avengers fighting hundreds of feet below before going hazy around the edges. He felt nauseous, stomach rolling viciously, and he pulled himself back from the edge of the roof, pressing his back tight to the wall as he gasped for breath. His underarms and the small of his back felt soaked with sweat and he pressed his face into his hands, trying to get a grip on himself. 

“Terminator?” 

Bucky’s head shot up and he found Tony, in full Iron Man regalia, hovering over the rooftop a few feet away from. him. 

“You alright?” 

Bucky’s panic level notched up another degree. If Stark realized what was going on, if he thought he couldn’t do this, he was going to tell Steve. Steve would take him off the team, and he’d be back to wandering aimlessly through the tower, guilt-ridden and unfulfilled. 

“I’m fine,” he grit out, and he really, really wasn’t, but he was the Winter Solider. He’d survived decades of torture and brainwashing; he could handle this. “I got it.” 

He forced himself back over to the ledge, aiming his gun and trying to get his breathing under control before he started audibly gasping and Stark realized something was wrong. Still, he could feel him hovering there a few more minutes, eyes staring into Bucky’s back before he flew off to join the fray again. 

He wasn’t sure how, exactly, but somehow he managed to make it through. And then Steve’s voice was in his ear, calling it a win, and finally he could pull back from the ledge, away from those endless meters of empty air and head for home. The second he was away from the ledge he was breathing easier again, and the further he got from the rooftop the better he felt. 

Right up until he stepped outside to find Steve and Stark standing across the street, talking to each other. Stark’s faceplate was up, and they were standing close, speaking quietly enough that even with his enhanced hearing, Bucky couldn’t make out what was being said. But he didn’t miss the way that Stark’s eyes cut over to him as he spoke. A little furrow appeared between his brows, and he said some final thing to Steve before taking a step back, faceplate sliding closed again. 

“Race you home!” he called, the words barely out before he was zooming off for the tower. 

Steve rolled his eyes good naturedly, grinning despite himself, but the pleased smile on his face faded as he turned and caught sight of Bucky watching him.

“Hey Buck,” he called, jogging over to him. Bucky drew in a slow breath, preparing himself for Steve to tell him what Tony had witnessed, to let him know it wasn’t going to work out after all, and he was off the team for good. But Steve just squinted at him in the sunlight. “You alright?” he asked after the briefest of moments. “You’re looking a little pale.”

“Fine,” Bucky grunted, and when Steve didn’t seem to have anything more to add, he forced a tight smile to his face. “Just a little tired, I guess.” 

Steve nodded amicably, clapping him on the shoulder. “Well, you did good today, pal. I’m glad you were there.” He nodded towards the waiting Quinjet. “Come on, let’s get home. Got showers and an endlessly supply of hot water with our names on them.” 

Of course that wasn’t entirely true - they had the debriefing to get through first. Bucky slumped in his chair to the left of Steve, trying to appear relaxed even while his body was a tense line, every inch of him on alert for the moment when someone would say something about his performance. Tony was sitting across from him, and Bucky could practically feel his eyes on him as Steve went through the mission with his usual obsessive attention to detail. He looked up at him once, glaring, because if he was going to say something why didn’t he just  _ say it, dammit,  _ but when he caught Stark’s eye, the man just offered him a grin and a familiar eye roll in Steve’s direction. Bucky frowned, focusing on the grains of the table beneath his fingers as he tried to figure out what Stark’s game was. 

“... Bucky?” 

Bucky’s head snapped up as he realized this wasn’t the first time Steve had said his name. Swallowing hard to hide the stress in his voice, he offered a sheepish smile, like he hadn’t been paying attention on purpose. “What?” 

It worked, apparently, because Steve huffed out an aggravated sigh. “I asked for your report? How did the fight play out for you?” 

“Uh.” Bucky blinked, feeling his throat go dry because he couldn’t remember how it had played out, had no recollection of what he’d done between Stark flying away and Steve calling the fight. “I shot the bad guys?” 

That got him general laughter from around the table, but he could already tell that Steve was still going to push the issue, and he had no idea what he was going to say because he couldn’t not answer. But then, before he could offer anything else, Stark was whining across the table. 

“Come  _ on _ , Steve. We were all there, we all saw what happened. Do you really need six reports all saying the same thing? Come on, we’re the good guys, we saved the day, no casualties… Why are we getting punished? Let’s just call the meeting. Besides, I need a shower like, real bad. You have any idea how rank the smells get in this suit?” 

“ _ Tony _ .” Steve rolled his eyes, but Tony’s protests had shifted the attitude in the room, and Steve apparently knew when he was beat. “Fine, alright,” he huffed, obviously fighting back a grin. “Meeting adjourned. Good work today, everyone.” 

Bucky let his eyes linger over Tony a minute, and while he was trying to work out if that had been an excellently timed coincidence, Stark glanced at him and in the barest of moments, gave him a wink. Bucky’s spine stiffened. He had no idea what Stark’s game was here, but he wasn’t planning to wait around and find out. He got to his feet, quickly retreating for the safety of his own suite when Tony was waylaid by Barton. 

Alone at last, Bucky began his usual post-mission routine, stripping his clothes and leaving them in a neat pile by the bathroom door, stepping into the shower. The hot, steamy air helped to settle the twitchiness that still lingered under his skin, and when he stepped out twenty minutes later, he was feeling more himself. 

Until he stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, to find Tony leaning against his wall, fiddling with his phone. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky yelped, managing to catch himself before he threw something sharp at Tony’s face. “You gotta death wish? What’re you doing sneaking up on an assassin?”

Tony shrugged, making a show of leering at Bucky’s bare chest before waggling his eyebrows at him ridiculously. Bucky rolled his eyes, even while his hand moved to secure the knot in his towel. “Just thought you might want some friendly conversation.”

Bucky stared at him blankly. “My door was shut.”

“I own the building, Snowflake. Besides, I figured if you really didn’t want anyone stopping by, privacy mode exists.” 

Bucky heaved a sigh, but he was right; normally Bucky was meticulous about engaging privacy mode. “What do you wanna talk about?” he asked, like he didn’t already know. Tony just arched an eyebrow at him. 

“I think you know.’

“I think I need more clothes for this conversation,” Bucky grumbled, before sighing again. He was pretty sure Stark wasn’t going to let this go, and it was probably still better than trying to deal with Steve. “Okay, fine,” he said, suddenly weary. He tugged on a pair of sweatpants. “You saw me on the roof. You know I’m a mess. You gonna blackmail me or something?”

“Black… Blackmail you?” Tony blinked and then looked around the room. “You know I own this place, right? What would I even blackmail you for?” He shook his head then. “And more importantly,  _ why _ would I blackmail you?” 

Bucky shrugged tiredly, sitting on the side of his bed. “I dunno,” he told him. “I don’t know what you’re doing, Stark. But whatever you’re planning, can we just get it over with? If you and Steve are trying to figure out the best way to tell me I’m off the team, I mean… I get it, but this ain’t it. I’d rather just know.” 

Tony was looking even more confused - not his best look. “Whoa, slow down a sec. Who’s kicking you off the team?” 

Bucky gave him a flat stare. “I know you saw my little freak out on the roof. Your little looks aren’t as subtle as you seem to think. I’m not… functional. You know it, I know it. Why else would you be here if not to kick me off the team?” He gave Tony a crooked smile, the look not reaching his eyes. “What, did Stevie chicken out? Draw the short straw?” 

Tony's look had shifted from confused to horrified, and he sat down heavily on the bed beside Bucky. “Jesus, they fucked you up good.” 

“Really?” Bucky asked dryly. “You’re just noticing that now?” 

That startled a laugh out of Tony. “Look, nobody is thinking about kicking you off the team. I’m not… I don’t have some kind of  _ agenda _ here. I just… Yeah, I saw you on the roof, and I thought you could use someone to talk to. You might have missed it with your whole brainwashed Murder Doll stint, but I’m no stranger to anxiety and brains fucking us over. There was a whole thing a few years ago, learned myself some coping mechanisms after that...” He turned to face Bucky. “We can figure this out too.” 

Bucky stared back at him incredulously. “It’s… I…” He still didn’t understand, didn’t know what Tony wanted, but scrubbed a hand through his hair anyway. “It was like I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t see...”

“Like the whole world was closing in on you, and you couldn’t do anything to stop it?” Tony offered. Bucky blinked. “It’s called a panic attack, my friend. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d been there before.” 

Bucky swallowed hard; the sheer kindness in Tony’s eyes was too much, and he had to look away, focusing instead on where their legs were almost touching, the way Tony’s hand was curled loosely on his thigh, calloused with a streak of oil on his fourth knuckle. “How did you fix it?” he asked, voice sounding rough to his own ears. He felt Tony’s shrug against his arm. 

“It’s a work in progress,” he admitted. “Not something you ever  _ really _ fix. But there’s things we can do to manage it. Not everything works for everybody, and there’s going to be some trial and error, but hey…” 

Bucky watched as Tony’s hand uncurled shifted to wrap around his own and squeeze gently. He lifted his gaze again to find Tony smiling at him, soft and sweet. 

“We’ll figure it out together.”


End file.
